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  NOBODY

  Written by Tiana Laveen

  Edited by Natalie G. Owens

  Cover Layout by Travis Pennington

  BLURB

  Kane Westbrook has fallen from grace… Born from a wealthy, Christian family and living his life in Texas, the handsome, 6’5” former college football star and accomplished automotive engineer endured an unthinkable catastrophe, one that changed his life forever. He now isolates himself from the outside world, creating a cocoon of a false sense of comfort.

  Jessica Franco is as level headed and calm as they come. She’s worked for years at the United States Postal Service, owns her own home and shares her space with a dear friend who can’t seem to get her own life together. Despite having a rather difficult childhood and being viewed as the ‘not so pretty one’ of her family and friends, she has not only survived, but thrived. Able to often see the silver lining in other’s misfortunes, she covertly rarely can see them for herself. Everyone loves Jessica, and though she appears well adjusted and centered, there are secrets and abundant pain she possesses deep inside, the kind of emotions that tear her apart in more ways than one. Suffering from always being the bride’s maid and never the bride, Jessica’s life begs the question, “Is beauty really only skin deep?”

  Kane and Jessica meet in the most simplest of ways but their complicated lives intertwine. A bond of understanding and intrigue is formed that neither expected, yet, it’s too amazing to release. Fate came knocking, and they answered. The unexpected package of love was Signed. Sealed and Delivered. Will Kane be able to escape the prison of his own mind and follow his heart to make a life with Jessica? Will Jessica be able to open herself up like the flower she is, be vulnerable enough to accept Kane’s love and most of all, believe that she is deserving to receive it?

  Read, “Nobody,” to find out!

  WARNING: This book is raw, emotionally gritty, and in your face. It offers no apologies. It is a romance novel that deals with real-life issues. However, I, as the author, never wish for my readers to be blindsided. There is plentiful humor and much more, but this novel is not considered lighthearted read. If ANY of the below mentioned topics offends you or may be a personal trigger, please proceed with caution:

  1. Colorism in the Black (American) community

  2. Profanity

  3. Occasional racial slurs

  4. Graphic Sexual encounters

  4. Mental illness

  5. Discussions of sexual abuse

  Thank You.

  Let’s continue…

  COPYRIGHT

  Copyright © 2019 by Tiana Laveen

  Kindle Edition

  All rights reserved.

  Warning: The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. Criminal copyright infringement, including infringement without monetary gain, is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to 5 (five) years in federal prison and a fine of $250,000.

  Names, characters and incidents depicted in this book are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental and beyond the intent of the author or the publisher.

  No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher. PIRACY IS AGAINST THE LAW.

  DEDICATION

  This book is dedicated to dark-skinned girls, brown-skinned girls and light-skinned girls from all over the world. A blanket tinged with blood exists in the shape of Africa – the headscarf of our motherland. She is the womb from which we come. We are her daughters, and that makes us sistas, regardless of where we fall in the world on this color spectrum, and whatever our various ethnicities, life paths, and religious beliefs.

  This book is dedicated to each and every Nubian Doyenne in her own right, who has ever felt invisible in this world.

  Maybe your skin was too dark in the eyes of a nemesis… Your hair too kinky, your hips too wide, your nose too big, your lips too huge, your voice too loud, your smile too broad, your persona too much, your love too strong, your determination to survive too enormous and your beauty too damn powerful to be appreciated.

  Small people try to make you feel smaller. They only increase in size by eating you up.

  DINNER TIME IS OVER.

  This book is dedicated to those who have almost forgotten their queendom, in a land that looks through them, past them and around them. It is dedicated to each tear that has fallen from your eyes in the name of pain inflicted by the outside world, from opportunities for something better that never came uh’ knockin’. It is dedicated to the knowledge we must obtain, the friendships we must have and maintain, and the love we must share. It is dedicated to the understanding that our sista is not our enemy because of her physical appearance—be it complexion, hair type, features, etc.—but because of her mindset and the way she may treat others in the queendom. This book is dedicated to sistas whose necks hurt because their heads are far too often left hanging down in disappointment…

  That tickle of wind on your chin is God trying to make you gaze up at the stars! Why? Because THAT’S what you are!

  You wear a crown of thorns for your children yet to be born…

  Your womb is the birthplace of nations.

  Your skin, the soil, the cool earth of the planet.

  Your eyes, the midnight sky across the atmosphere.

  You are worthy. You are the truth. You are beautiful.

  But FIRST, YOU must believe it, too…

  Namaste.

  TABLE OF CONTENTS

  Title Page

  About this Book

  Copyright

  Dedication

  Love Letter to my readers

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Music Directory

  About the Author

  Love Letter to my readers

  I have to be honest, Beloved. I debated on writing this book. It almost didn’t make it to publication.

  Don’t get me wrong. I have wanted to write this story for a mighty long time. I hesitated because truthfully, this type of ‘hurt’ experienced by some of the characters is not a pebble; it’s a 500,000,000-ton jagged, ugly, soul-crushing rock.

  No one can lift it by themselves…

  But, one kind word, one act of heroism, one hug, one bit of knowledge, and one book at a time, it will budge… it will move. I am hoping and praying that this is a shove in the right direction. Bend down and help me push.

  You’re doing great! Are you ready for the next step?

  Let me take you on a journey.

  We’re going down south to Texas where the food is fried and delicious, the culture is rich and blood-drenched, the boys are big, cornfed fellows, and the girls are polite in the light of day, but show up and show out under the starlit sky.

  So, without further ado, please grab something lush to drink, get comfortable, and let’s dive into “Nobody.”

  I’m so glad you’ve joined us…

  Let’s begin.

  CHAPTER ONE<
br />
  Handsome is as Handsome Does…

  “’Bout a few days ago…” Kane clutched the old landline phone as he sat back in the rickety chair of his kitchen. Every time he moved, his seat teetered back and forth, squeaking and squawking. He looked into his ashtray and noted the four crushed cigarette butts. It was almost time for another pack. The kitchen faucet dripped slow, the water plip-plopping onto a basin full of dirty dishes. The buzz of a fly went on for a few seconds, then faded away.

  He stared out the kitchen window. A sheer orange curtain was drawn and tied to the left side with an old piece of twine that had been wrapped around a ham the previous year, allowing the setting sunrays to shine through. The sky reminded him of an orange cream soda, the kind his mama used to make him when he was feeling ill. A tangerine atmosphere with fluffy white clouds floating by. He couldn’t help but smile at the thought.

  Those were the good ol’ days.

  “You’ve been cooped up in the house too long now, Kane.” His father kept harping and jumping on his nerves as if they were made of rubber. “Your mother and I wanna see you.” He exhaled loudly and ran his hand along his forehead, picking up a sheen of sweat along the way. Closing his eyes, he welcomed the darkness all around him. Anything to escape.

  “I’ll see what I can do. Timing not the best for that right now.”

  “Kane, you told me the same thing a few weeks ago, and a few weeks before that. You’ve moved over there to Sugar Land, left us here in Dallas without so much as a word. That was way over a year ago. We’ve been by twice to see ya in Houston since you abandoned ship, and that was like pullin’ teeth. Not to mention, once we were there, you barely spoke a word. I have no idea what you’re doin’ with your time over there. Now, if you won’t invite us over, at least let come to us. I insist!” Papa said sternly. “Your brothers and sisters miss you terribly, too.”

  “I’m busy.”

  “Fiddlesticks! Doin’ what exactly?!” Minding my business like you should mind yours… “You barely go anywhere, Kane!”

  “How do you know what I’m doing? I’m here in Houston now, and you’re there.”

  “I know it’s true ’cause you haven’t been right for years and don’t forget, your brothers and sisters talk! You sit in that house all damn day feelin’ sorry for yourself when you should be thanking God and your lucky stars that you’re alive!”

  “I’ll get right on that… you know, the thankin’ God part.”

  “Your attitude stinks. I can’t believe this is the same boy I raised who was full of laughter and practical jokes. Now, you give me a date and a time! You’re my car star. You’re brothers aren’t into it like that. They don’t have your skills and natural talents for it. We got important matters to discuss, ya know.”

  “Like what? How I refused to take over the business? I don’t want no part in it.”

  “Not just that, but other things, too. I want to know when we can swing through, Kane, and you’re going to tell me.”

  “Oh, for Christ’s sake! I’m not some little kid you can just tell what to do. I don’t have to tell you anything! I’m thirty-seven damn years old. I don’t ask you for jack shit and I’ll tell ya when ya can see me… The 25th of never! How about that?”

  “Boy! You can—”

  “I’m done being polite. You didn’t care about seein’ me when I needed you to, so don’t worry about trying to see my ass now!”

  “I can’t believe this! That’s not true Kane and you know it. This can’t be my son talkin’ to me like this!”

  “It is…” He belched.

  “Your mother said you were just as belligerent on the phone with her last month. I had hoped you were just drunk since she’d called you so late. I see that this is just the new you, huh? You better shape up and show some respect!” The old man’s voice shook as he barely seemed to get the words to flow.

  “It takes respect to get some respect. You ain’t shown me any in years.”

  “Don’t you talk to me like that, Kane! I’m just tryna help!”

  “You wanna help me, Dad? Then just leave me alone.” Kane abruptly disconnected the call, then removed the damn thing from the hook. He stood to his feet, hitting his head on a pan hanging from a rack over the kitchen island. “Ouch! Shit!” The damn thing banged and clanged against another one, sounding much like distorted church bells. He rubbed on the spot that would surely rise to a bump like yeast in an oven, and made his way over to the kitchen sink.

  This hangover isn’t gonna turn me loose…

  He glared at the void ten beers he’d downed the night before, hating the sight of the empty bottles. Soft light shone upon them, making the glass look like a shining star in the middle of the hell that was his home. He stepped a bit closer to the trash heap and caught his distorted reflection in one of the bottles.

  Shoulder length, unkempt dark brown hair. Shabby beard. Swollen light blue eyes, barely visible…

  I need to trim this beard, get a good haircut, do something with myself… but I won’t. Too tired.

  He turned the light off and returned to the sink. Grabbing the Dawn dish soap with one hand and a sponge with the other, he paused and stared, falling into a daydream. He ended up being enveloped in darkness again. He was swallowed whole by the blackness like a fish in the mouth of a whale. The sun was gone. He dropped the dish detergent bottle in the sink and the sponge plummeted to the floor as his fingers twitched. When his muscles began to shake beneath his flesh, he white-knuckled the side of the basin, bracing himself, trying to stay on his feet as he felt the rush of sweltering internal heat and fear overcome him. He peered out into the obscure nightfall of that window. The outline of trees looked like hulking beasts. His jaw tightened and his brain felt as if it were swelling in his damn skull as he squelched a scream. Visions, horrible and bloody, turned to scissors, slashing through his mind, making a mess of his contemplations and torturing him once again.

  “No! Noooo!” he roared. His voice jammed in his throat like a ball of razor blades. He held back another scream, raced up the stairs and stomped out to his dark and musty bedroom. He pushed the door open with a hard shove of his shoulder, pushing away large boxes filled with papers and odds and ends. Some items tumbled to the floor. He headed to the bed and dropped himself on it. Soon, he became cold and clammy, his whispers in the dark coming out as smoke rings in the chilly air. Ghosts from his past danced by his side. Bringing his knees close to his chest, he cradled himself then rocked back and forth, praying, cursing.

  “I’m in control… I’m in control…” he repeated with his eyes closed, muscles tight, murky shadows covering him like a second skin. His teeth chattered; his mind exploded with new worries dressed up in their finest attire to attend the funeral of his sanity. “Go away… GO AWAY!!!” he screamed over and over until his voice was raw and hoarse. Until he could speak no more…

  Kane woke up eight hours later, covered in sweat. His lips curled in a grateful smile. The sun had risen. He’d survived another night.

  “She got roaches.” Melissa licked her finger real slow, flipped to another page of the Ebony magazine and curled her long, skinny legs beneath her on the black couch. She took a loud, drawn out gulp of ice cold Pepsi from the frosted glass then placed it back down on the freshly polished coffee table. Jessica put her hand on her hip and glared at her friend, sitting there talking crooked about everyone in town. Here she goes again… “Tried to say Barbara brought ’em up in there when she stayed for the weekend. So now roaches like weekend getaways, too, huh? Like the mothafuckas decide to jump in her bags and say, ‘Hey! We going wherever you goin’, baby!’”

  Jessica squelched a snicker and picked up an empty chocolate chip cookie bag from the floor before placing the vacuum cleaner up against the living room wall.

  “Well, I haven’t been over there in a minute but it sounds like Sharon needs to go on ahead and get an exterminator and stop blamin’ people for that infestation. She’s getting a bad reputation. This cou
ld be nipped in the bud if she’d just call All-Pro Pest Control or someplace like that. I see their advertisements all over town and I hear they have good rates, too.”

  “Let her tell it. She’s living in the lap of luxury and there’s barely a lady bug to cross her path, let alone a damn roach. Oh Jess, girl!” Melissa slapped her knee and doubled over with laughter. “Girl, let me tell you! She tried to give Paul, you know, the guy that just lost his wife and lives across the street from her now.”

  “Yes, Paul Duggar… nice man.”

  “He all right. Rumor had it his ass was gettin’ his willy wacked by Cheryl, that prostitute that be at the truck stop while his ol’ lady was still alive and kickin’. Anyway, Sharon tried to make him some spaghetti and took it to him across the street, to welcome him to the neighborhood. Barbara said he told her he threw that shit in the trash before it had even gone cold.”

  “It’s because of those roaches I take it. I hate gossiping with you.” Jessica smirked, lying through her teeth.

  “That’s a lie from the depths of Hell and everybody knows you got all the tea!” Jessica couldn’t help but giggle. It was true. “Now spill it!”

  “All I know, Melissa, is that she had the nerve to be upset when no one bought any of her brownies at that breast cancer fundraising event last year.” Jessica pursed her lips and shook her head as the memories flooded her. “I felt bad for her though. Maybe someone outta give her, like, a roach gift certificate or something? Does that even exist? You know, from an exterminator…”

  “Shiiiid! She wouldn’t let nobody up in there, Jess, because then the truck would be in her driveway for all to see and she’d be embarrassed! You know how fake and sadiddy she is! And that’s some nerve about those brownies. If that were the last thing to eat on this planet, I wouldn’t dare touch it, all because it came from that disgusting ass kitchen. Them roaches probably usin’ her boiling pots of water like a hot tub, the bananas on the counter are slides for a roach toddler playground and the Saltine crackers are little beds ’nd shit, so they can nibble when they get a hankering for a snack. Somebody think she got nuts in those brownies, think they’re pecans or something. Naw, baby! That wasn’t no cashew. It was Drew, the roach from kitchen cabinet number two!”